


A Roguish Neighbor

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [194]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2018-04-10 15:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4397042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our lads reconnect with an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Roguish Neighbor

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting  
> My former betas: Alex, Ula, and Padawan Sue
> 
> Here is the story, from all the way back in January of 2004, about our lads moving into their Landowe condos: Arcadia # 9 -- [Flux](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1752728)  
>   
> They'd only known each other eight months at the time, and Arcadia was still in single digits.  
>   
> Hard to believe it's been nine years since then!  
>   
> To Helen and Stacey

"Good to see you again, Les!"  
  
Ian greeted their former neighbor, Les Danson, with his usual warmth, despite the January freeze in Alder Run. Les still lived down the hall from the professors' old condos in Landowe, but they hadn't been back to visit him since "The Revenge of the Sith" was playing in theaters.  
  
Quinn and Ian were enjoying a bit of Saturday-afternoon shopping at the Core-Stanton Mall, a few minutes from their home. They'd been buying new insulated gloves at Mountain High Outfitters, before Ian had spotted Les a couple of yards in front of them as they left the store. A retired fighter pilot for the Air Force's elite Rogue Squadron, Les was the epitome of the grizzled tough guy, and he and the professors had frequently worked out together in the condo association's gym downstairs.  
  
Les gave each of them a high five and said, "Same here. The old place just isn't as much fun without you guys."  
  
"We spent a couple of happy years there," Quinn said, smiling reminiscently at Les.  
  
"It was the first home I ever owned," added Ian.  
  
Les asked, "Hey, fellas, how 'bout playing catch-up?"  
  
"Good idea. Would you like to join us for lunch?" Quinn said.  
  
"You're on," said Les enthusiastically. "Do you still like California Pizza Kitchen?" At their nods, he continued, "I remember the old days, when we used to get take-out and split a large wild mushroom pie."  
  
"Count me in," Ian said, his stomach all but rumbling at the very idea. 'Muscle memory has taken on a whole new meaning,' he thought wryly.  
  
They took the escalator up to the food court, dodging hordes of people with packages -- not to mention, driving a mean stroller -- playing offense as they tried to make their way there. Even after Christmas, the mall was always busy on the weekends. 'In the Still of the Night' was, ironically, straining to be heard in the background above the hubbub.  
  
Even though it was past two o'clock, every table was taken in the bustling restaurant. There was a twenty-eight-minute wait, which they spent checking out a retrospective of the Skyhawks' football season on the big-screen LCD television in the bar area. The men leaned against the metal railing that divided the bar from the remainder of the restaurant, chatting loudly to be heard over the blare of the TV.  
  
Finally, they got the first available booth, threw their coats and packages in before them, and sat down gratefully, the professors facing their former neighbor. Their legs felt as if they'd moved the ball fifty yards down the field themselves, what with all of their shopping and standing around waiting.  
  
Their waitress came over and introduced herself as Mira, handed them menus, then recited a list of beers on draught. Guinness Winter Ale inevitably won out for all three of them, and by the time she brought a tray with mugs, along with pitchers of ale and water, they had finalized negotiations to order bowls of beef barley soup as their first course, then the fabled mushroom pizza with goat cheese and garlic.  
  
"Still overgrown hobbits, fellas?" teased Les. "Especially you, Quinn."  
  
They all chuckled into their ale.  
  
"Of course," said Quinn, and Ian chimed in, "You got that right. And now we're in intensive training, since we've seen the movie three times already."  
  
"I should have known," Les said. "So, what do you think of it?"  
  
Ian wet his whistle, then said, "I've got to admit that it seems like an endless series of battles, but I love the scenes in Hobbiton and Rivendell."  
  
"Jackson does like his mayhem, doesn't he?" snorted Les.  
  
Quinn snorted back. "Too true, but I can forgive him anythin' for using the first sentences of "The Hobbit" verbatim near the start of the movie. 'In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit...'"  
  
Ian was instantly transported to Bag End by these magical words, which he first had read at age eleven. But now it was even better, with his husband adding a bit of extra enchantment to his favorite book, just as Quinn did each time he read Ian a chapter at home by the fireside.  
  
Mira came over with their bowls of soup, as well as a bread basket, on a tray. The soup turned out to be closer to a stew, with various vegetables inside. The men got warmer by the spoonful, and they paid more attention to their meal than the conversation. A few minutes after they finished, Mira came bustling back again.  
  
She brought the pizza this time, in all its mushroomed majesty. Quinn's masterful imagination conjured up pictures of hobbit children scampering through the fields in the Eastfarthing, with baskets of mushrooms in hand. That is, until his whimsy was interrupted by Les's next question.  
  
"So, how's life in Alder Run treating you?" Les asked. "I've heard it's a laidback little place."  
  
Ian said, "Best move we ever made. You've got to come over to the house sometime."  
  
"I'll try to make it there soon," said Les, after which he made short work of his first slice of pizza.  
  
When he finished chewing himself, Quinn said, "Good. You can finally meet our dogs, Artoo and Sandy. I had to leave them with a former neighbor of mine when they were just puppies because the condo association didn't allow pets."  
  
"Well, luckily that bylaw has been eliminated. And I've never had a chance to tell you this, but you inspired me," Les said. After you told me about how the pups bounded up to you at the pound, I went over there myself and took home a sweet little Yorkshire terrier named Wraith."  
  
"Oh, that's grand," Quinn said happily. "Be sure to bring him with you when you visit us. I have a feeling he'll make two new little friends."  
  
Les nodded. "Sure thing. He'll like having a back yard to run in."  
  
"You'll like it, too," said Quinn. "We have fenced yards for the pups to play in, both back and front. We're also right near the town bike path, so we can use it anytime."  
  
"Wow, you've got your own little paradise in Alder Run," Les said appreciatively.  
  
Quinn and Ian exchanged smiles in a circuit of contentment.  
  
"Congratulations, guys!" Les had a twinkle in his eye as he said, "Can't say it surprises me, though," pointing to their hands, where their rings were gleaming in the soft light from the sconce on the wall of their booth.  
  
"You knew back then, huh?" asked Ian, a bit taken aback that all their careful obfuscation had been for naught.  
  
"Of course I did," said Les with a wink. "The whole building did, too. You know how the gossip chain works, and those walls aren't very sound-proof, guys.  
  
"But we could see that you were not ready to come out, so we just let it go," Les added.  
  
It was obvious by their responses just how far the professors had come from their Landowe days. Quinn started to chuckle, while Ian snorted at Les's matter-of-fact comments.  
  
Les lapped it up; he was clearly on a roll now. "Remember, I was in the service under Don't Ask, Don't Tell. Plenty of my buddies were deeply closeted. But we always knew. You have an instinct for people, especially if they're your friends."  
  
Quinn sighed. "Too bad you retired before DADT was repealed. 'Tis truly a sea change."  
  
Les nodded. "I've already been to a few weddings, and it's incredible seeing the difference in these guys I've known for so many years." He sipped his water. "They're so much happier and at ease now."  
  
"Marriage will do that to you," Ian said, sparkling green fire in his eyes.  
  
"So when did you two tie the knot?" Les asked.  
  
"It's a long story," said Quinn, with a wink of his own to Ian. "Back in 2005, I still wasn't out to my parents, but I proposed to Ian anyway." He finished his ale. "Remember I told you how we met at the Tolkien symposium at Mace University?"  
  
Les nodded; he'd been intrigued by the intensity of the professors' relationship early on.  
  
Quinn continued, "Since then, Massachusetts has had a special place in our hearts. And it was the first state in the U.S. to legalize marriage equality."  
  
Putting an arm around his laddie's shoulder, Quinn went on. "So we decided to get married at Mace Chapel, with our friends and Ian's family there."  
  
"That must've been tough on you, Quinn," said Les.  
  
"It was rough without my folks," Quinn acknowledged wryly, "but I couldn't imagine not marrying Ian."  
  
His husband's irrepressible grin came out to play. "Same for me," added Ian simply, leaning into his herven's shoulder.  
  
Quinn said, "Then, about two years ago, my impetuous lad popped the question right after the marriage equality bill was passed in New York State."  
  
Les nodded sagely. "Yeah, I remember thinking of you guys that night. I'm glad you took advantage of it."  
  
Ian said dreamily, "We got married on August 20, 2011, on the date of Quinn's grandparents' anniversary."  
  
"And this time, my folks were there," concluded Quinn, with unmistakable satisfaction.  
  
Les clapped both of their shoulders heartily. "Now that's what I call a love story."  
  
The professors thanked their friend just as heartily.  
  
Beaming at them, Les declared, "Well, it's decided -- lunch is on me. This finally gives me a chance to celebrate along with you, fellas."  
  
And celebrate they did, even going for the Key lime pie for dessert, at Les's urging. It was a little taste of August 20th in the midst of wintertime.  
  
Life was sweet for all of them now, indeed.


End file.
